The Aftermath
by ParanoidArabBoy
Summary: Rigsby & VanPelt sleep together after she kills O'Laughlin, she takes leave & goes back to Iowa before they can talk about it. Angst-ish. R/vP, J/L, Cho/OMC. Slight slash also. Don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

Wayne Rigsby sat leaning as far back in his desk chair as the contraption would allow; his eyes fixed on the ceiling tile directly above him, cracked down the middle with water damage around the edge where it met the tile beside it. His mind wasn't on the tile though, or on the stack of papers on his desk that needed his signature; all he could think of was Grace, and that last emotionally charged night they had spent together after she had killed O'Laughlin.

"_Wayne!" _

_His name fell breathily from her lips as she writhed beneath him, grasping desperately at any inch of his skin she could reach. It was like every dream he had had while they were apart was being played out on his living room floor; their sweaty bodies as close as he could pull them together as he rocked into her slowly, savoring the feeling of being with her again for as long as he could manage._

"_Wayne… Yes… Wayne… Please" she moaned, hot against his lips._

"_God… Grace!" he actually felt himself whimper as she began to tighten impossibly around him._

"_Wayne… Wayne!" she cried out, kissing him hard on the lips to muffle a scream that certainly would have woken the neighbors._

"_Wayne… Wayne…"_

"Wayne!"

Grace's voiced was replaced by that of Kimball Cho as Rigsby was swiftly pulled out of both his memories and his chair. He felt himself being dragged by the arm, but his brain – still stuck in the haze of that night – didn't register where exactly he was going. Cho pulled him into the men's room, ushering a surprised and flustered intern out the door before locking it behind him. Turning to him with the same stern look he always wore, Cho cocked his head and said simply:

"Spit it out."

"What?" Wayne replied, still not fully understanding the situation he found himself in. Cho continued unphased.

"Whatever's got you so distracted, spit it out. I can't afford to have you spacing out on me."

"It's nothing." He lowered his head as he spoke, now noticing the floor tiles in the bathroom as if for the first time.

"Look, I know you're upset about Van Pelt going back to Iowa – however temporarily—but she's only been gone a week and a half and you're losing it already. You've got to get it together Wayne, because people – including me – put their lives in your hands every day and you can't be drifting off into dreamland all the time." The use of his first name let him know that while Cho was putting on a strictly professional front, he really was concerned.

"Look, I'm sorry. I just can't get her out of my head."

"You slept together" Cho stated in the same flat tone he would use to relay a football score.

"What? Cho, that's ridiculous!" The other man simply gave him a skeptical look and crossed his arms.

"You're a terrible liar. You're also blushing as if you'd been caught in the act." Cho's face stayed impassive as he watched Rigsby try to control his blushing.

"I don't want to talk about it" Rigsby stated quietly, but with a sense of finality. Cho still had that maddeningly calm expression on his face.

"That's fine. I don't particularly want to hear about it, I just need you to get yourself together. Van Pelt's temporary replacement gets here today."

Rigsby felt an ache deep in his chest as he processed what his colleague had just said. Grace's replacement; no – he reminded himself – her _temporary_ replacement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Don't own The Mentalist; in fact, anything you recognize isn't mine. That applies to the first chapter as well, as I realize I didn't specify last chapter. Also, sorry that these chapters are so short, I'm trying to make some of the later ones longer.**

Jane lay motionless on his couch, hands folded behind his head and his eyes scanning the bullpen. Since the whole Craig O'Laughlin debacle everyone had been behaving differently – understandably so of course – but it gave him a wonderful opportunity to observe them off their guard.

Rigsby was, naturally, the most obviously different in demeanor; one minute he'd be staring into space and the next he'd be up and pacing grooves in the floor. Of course he was entirely unsurprised at the man's behavior, if he'd been hopelessly in love with Van Pelt he'd probably be acting the same way. He was, however, particularly interested in seeing Rigsby's reaction to Grace's replacement. He imaged it wouldn't be pretty.

Speak of the devil, he was fairly sure that the man currently walking towards Lisbon's office was exactly who he had been looking for.

He wasn't exactly what Jane had imagined, Grace's replacement; for some reason he had been picturing a Rigsby look-a-like, and the man standing not ten feet from him was absolutely not what he had expected.

Short, but built quite athletically, the man appeared to be in his mid-twenties, most likely Hispanic, though possibly Middle Eastern, with hair that reminded Jane of actors in the old movies Lisbon liked so much. The man was well dressed, but not overly shiny, with shoes that reminded Jane of his own; brown and relatively beat up, but still presentable. He had neatly kept five o'clock shadow across his face and an expression that brought to mind Kimball Cho; Jane couldn't help but chuckle at that, the thought of another Cho on the team thoroughly ridiculous.

Jane was up and out of his seat before the man had a chance to knock on Lisbon's door, interrupting him as he raised a fist to do so.

"Hello there!" Jane exclaimed with his usual chipper tone. The man's expression didn't change one iota.

"Hello."

"Patrick Jane" he said, extending his hand and flashing his toothiest grin. Still, the man's face stayed impassive as he shook Jane's proffered hand.

Jane began to turn around towards his couch but felt a tap on his shoulder before he'd even taken a step.

"My wallet, please" the younger man stated with that same calm demeanor Jane had yet to shake.

All eyes in the bullpen were now on the two of them, and Jane could even see Cho smirking from his desk at his foiled attempt to pick the new agent's pocket.

"Certainly," he said, flipping to the driver's license in the front slide and quickly reading the name "Mr. Ortega."

He attempted to give the other man his winningest smile as he handed the wallet back to him, but he simply tucked it into his inside jacket pocket and continued towards Lisbon's office, knocking on the door in three quick strikes.

Well, he certainly hadn't been expecting that. Walking back to his couch and swinging his legs onto the cushions he began to mull over the encounter he had just had with the newest member of the team. He may have underestimated the young man, Jane thought to himself as he attempted to drift off into sleep.

Cho smirked once more as Jane rearranged himself on the leather couch in the far corner. This was perhaps the first time he had ever seen someone completely unaffected by the consultant's antics and he was certainly looking forward to seeing just how long the newest addition to the team could withstand Jane's inevitable barrage of schemes and trickery.

The door to Lisbon's office swung open and she strode out, followed by Agent Ortega, and stopped in the middle of the bullpen signaling for everyone's attention.

"Alright everyone," she called "this is Agent Manuel Ortega, Agent Van Pelt's temporary replacement, make him feel welcome." Cho could see her gaze zero in on Rigsby as she made her last statement.

Looking at the desk beside his, Cho could clearly see that Rigsby wanted to be anything but welcoming to their newest addition and quickly shot him a look he hoped had a warning tone to it.

Agent Ortega sat at the desk that Cho knew Rigsby thought of as strictly Grace's and began to adjust the chair. He could see Rigsby staring at the other man as he began to look through the drawers and organize the desk top and had a feeling that this would be a long and potentially explosive day at the office, if Rigsby's expression was anything to go by.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: The Mentalist = not mine. Review if you feel like it.**

Meanwhile in Iowa…

Grace slept fitfully, as she had every night since she'd been home, though that morning as she opened her eyes the room began spinning at an alarming pace around her. She clamped her eyes tight shut as she fought the wave of nausea that she could feel approaching and desperately threw the last remaining sheet off herself, in case she had to make a quick run to the bathroom.

As the nausea passed she slowly tried opening her eyes once more only to find the ceiling light doing rapid laps around her, causing her to close her eyes once more and let out a pitiful groan. Even now, with her eyes shut tightly, she felt as though everything was spinning around her and she couldn't seem to sit herself upright, instead tumbling to the floor beside her bed with a crash.

She could hear footsteps in the hallway outside her door as she struggled to pull herself from the floor, without success. There was a knock at her door that her logical mind knew couldn't be as loud as she imagined.

"Grace?" Her mother's voice sounded worried as she knocked again.

Grace tried to respond, but all that came out was a pathetic, strangled groan.

She could hear the knob turning and the old door creaking open as if the noise was coming from an amplifier inside her head and groaned again as her mother's footsteps came closer and she heard her gasp.

"Grace, honey, are you alright?"

Her mother's voice still sounded relatively calm, but Grace could hear a slight panicked edge to it, much as it had sounded anytime she or her siblings had injured themselves as children. She simply groaned again, as it seemed to be the only sound she could make.

"Hang on a second Gracie, I'll be right back."

She heard her mother's footsteps retreat and water running until her mother returned, kneeling beside her and pressing what she assumed was a cold cloth to her forehead.

"You're burning up sweetie, can you get up?" her mother asked softly.

"No." Grace managed to force out.

"Alright sweetheart," she soothed "can you at least turn over?"

Grace tried to roll from her position sprawled on her stomach on the floor but quickly stopped as another wave of nausea overcame her.

"No" she moaned once again.

"Okay," her mother said, stroking hair away from Grace's face "you're very pale sweetheart, let me just get your brother and we're going to try and move you, okay?" she asked very softly, though Grace knew there would be no arguing.

"Joshua!" her mother called "Get up here and help me with your sister, something's wrong!"

Grace could hear shuffling downstairs followed by the quickly approaching footsteps of her older brother and then her door swinging open once again.

"Jesus, Grace!" he exclaimed, kneeling down beside her as well. "What the hell happened?"

"I've no idea," her mother answered, her concern now evident in her voice "but we've got to move her somewhere more comfortable while I go call the doctor."

Grace could see her brother's blurry outline nodding at her her mother's before she was suddenly lifted into his arms. Yet another wave of nausea overtook her and she just managed to get out one word.

"Bathroom" she groaned.

Her brother moved quickly, evidently understanding her meaning, and even lifted the lid on the toilet before setting her down in front of the bowl to empty the contents of her stomach.

"Oh Grace," he soothed, pulling her hair back as she was ill, "what's up with you lately?"

Joshua was the closest to her in age of any of her siblings, and they had always been close. Neither of them had fit in all that much in small town Iowa and they were only a year apart in school, so they had always stuck together, especially as teenagers. He had been exactly the kind of son that her parents had been completely unequipped to deal with: shy, smart, effeminate and scrawny, with no interest in sports whatsoever; not exactly a dream for football coach Amos Van Pelt and his staunchly religious wife Julie. Grace hadn't exactly been their dream either; a bookish tomboy who had no interest in getting married and having a family and had fled to California at her first opportunity to leave. Luckily for their parents, their other siblings fit the roles they expected of them perfectly.

Now, even living on opposite sides of the country, Josh was still the member of her family she was closest to, trusting him with details of her life she couldn't even imagine sharing with her parents.

Stomach empty for now, she leaned against the cool tile of the wall, room still spinning, but not quite as quickly.

"Probably just the flu," she responded quietly "I didn't get the shot this year."

He just gave her a look.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

She just looked down at the floor.

"I know" she whispered.

"Come on Grace, don't think I haven't noticed. You haven't been eating enough, you're always crying and you've been screaming in your sleep."

Grace just shrugged, suddenly quite interested in her fingernails.

"Oh, and I'm sure you'd be just chipper if you'd had to shoot and kill your fiance" she replied.

"Grace," he whispered "I don't think that's what this is about. You've been surprisingly calm about all that; I even saw you smirking a bit at the look on mom's face when you told her. No, this is something else entirely."

Grace gave a slight chuckle at that, damning him and his ability to read her so well. She briefly wondered if he'd ever met Patrick Jane, quickly scratching the thought as highly unlikely.

"I just..." she started quietly, before the nausea overcame her once again and she was violently ill, leaning over the porcelain bowl and thanking her mother's obsessive nature when it came to housekeeping.

**A/N: Well, Grace doesn't seem to be having a much better time in Iowa than anyone back in California, huh? Do keep in mind that these are just the opening chapters and I will be expanding on many points... if anyone happens to be reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: Again, anything you recognize isn't mine. Also, I know this story is rated M and there hasn't been much M stuff yet, but there will be.**

Only three days had passed since Grace's replacement had arrived and Lisbon was already thoroughly impressed with the young man. He was extremely competent and professional, but what surprised her most was how well he was able to adapt to her team and all their... eccentricities. He handled Jane better - right off the bat - than anyone she had ever met and even managed to put him in his place at least once a day, he was smart enough to mostly steer clear of the ticking time bomb that was currently Wayne Rigsby and she had even noticed him getting Cho to speak in complete sentences.

It didn't happen all that often, but Teresa Lisbon was very pleased with her temporary agent.

She could see him sitting at his desk diligently typing away at something she couldn't see. What she could see, however, was Rigsby staring intently at Agent Ortega, as if he wanted the light fixture above him to take out the whole desk and everything around it.

Rigsby had been getting progressively more difficult to deal with as the week went on and she was certainly not the only one to notice; much as the thought gave her a headache, she knew she'd have to talk to him, preferably before he did something she knew he'd regret.

She stood with a sigh and opened the door leading out to the bullpen, pulling him out of his head space as she called the fuming agent into her office.

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><p>Cho stood in the small kitchenette that served as their break room stirring his coffee; he could hear someone else entering the room and opening a cupboard, but didn't bother turning around as he figured it was just Rigsby come to rant about Agent Ortega and some perceived slight or insult the other man had made.<p>

"You know where Jane keeps the tea?"

The slightly accented voice of their newest addition surprised him and he turned towards it, only to discover Agent Ortega bent over looking through a bottom cupboard.

"Uh... Second shelf on the right."

Cho found himself having to fight for control of his voice - and body - for the first time in a very long time as the other man shot him a wide grin upon finding his tea.

"You know," Cho started "Jane will definitely notice that his tea is missing."

"Oh, I know" Ortega said with yet another smile "that's part of the fun."

Even Kimball Cho couldn't help but chuckle at the mischievous look on the other man's face as he began to boil his water. The look that Ortega had given him felt like it was branded into his retina and he was having a difficult time controlling his body's traitorous response to the other agent; he subtly pressed his fingers to the pulse point at his wrist and noted that his pulse was faster than usual. He hadn't reacted to another man like this this in some time; usually he had much better control than this.

Apparently oblivious to Cho's reaction to him, the other man sat at the small table with his steeping tea, a contemplative look on his face. Going against every instinct and every ounce of rational thought left in his body, Cho sat down as well.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, still surprised by his own behavior.

Agent Ortega turned his head and looked him right in the face, something Cho hadn't been expecting, and he could immediately feel a familiar tightening in his lower abdomen.

What was the matter with him? The new guy gives him a look and suddenly he's a horny teenager again, fighting against feelings he knows he shouldn't have.

"Agent Rigsby, he doesn't much like me, does he?" the other agent pondered aloud.

"Not particularly, no." Cho decided that his usual bluntness was the only way to avoid the reaction he was having to the man across from him.

"Hmm," Ortega hummed to himself "figured as much. Though I suppose he wouldn't mind me if I was replacing anyone but Agent Van Pelt."

Even in his flustered state, Cho couldn't help but be impressed at the younger man's observation. He smiled wryly at him.

"Very astute."

Ortega just chuckled to himself, dark eyes sparkling, before continuing.

"Not exactly hard to miss," he said, still smiling "this is probably the most sexually charged office, or situation in general, that I've ever worked in, and I was in the army."

He gave an almost imperceptible wink at the last statement, the one that had Cho coughing as he attempted to swallow his coffee.

"Excuse me?" Cho responded, having finally swallowed his mouthful.

"Well," he started "Agent Rigsby is clearly in love with Agent Van Pelt, and from what I've heard that hasn't gone away since they've been broken up."

Cho chuckled at that as Agent Ortega continued.

"And then there's whatever the hell is going on between Agent Lisbon and Mr. Jane, but my estimation is that they'll be fucking in her office by the end of the month."

At that last statement, Cho let out a full on laugh, giving up on his coffee as a lost cause.

"How about you, Kimball Cho? You don't really seem the type for an office romance."

"No," Cho confirmed "I'm not."

Ortega just nodded, leaning back in the small chair.

"Now, this is probably none of my business," he began "but what about away from work? Anyone special?"

The way he asked so casually threw Cho for a loop, normally he would assume someone was probing for information when asking a question like that, but for some reason it just seemed like friendly chit chat with Agent Ortega. He found himself unwillingly disappointed at that.

"Nope," he responded again "no one special."

"Hmm..." Ortega hummed again, before being interrupted by the slamming of a door in the other room.

Both men stood and walked back into the bullpen just in time to see Rigsby grab his stuff and storm out towards the elevator, knocking his chair over as he went.

"Well," Ortega turned and looked at Cho while walking backwards towards his desk "it was nice talking to you Kimball Cho."

He gave him that dazzling smile once more before turning to his desk and sitting down.

Good Lord, Cho though to himself, there was no way he'd get through the rest of today in the state he was in. This was ridiculous, he'd been able to mostly smother any attraction to other men for years, he'd even had relatively successful relationships with women; so why was it that his new co-worker had him completely hard at work and going to take care of it in a public washroom for the first time in years?

Jerking off in a cubicle of the washroom _at work _while thinking about his male co-worker, Cho desperately tried to convince himself that this was a one time thing. He was _not_ gay. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, some of which he was now desperately trying not to get on the front of his slacks, he had to believe that wasn't gay... He _couldn't_ be. It wasn't allowed.

**A/N: Review if you like.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: Still not mine.**

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><p>He could feel sweat running down every inch of his body as he attacked the heavy bag in the CBI gym, stopping only once in the two hours he'd been there to re-do his hand wrap when it had come loose. At this point he had discarded both wraps, beating mercilessly at the rough leather with his bare fists.<p>

He had no idea why he was so angry about Grace's replacement, really he didn't; the man was friendly, good at his job and had even acknowledged that his position was strictly temporary, he was just there until a position opened up in counter-terror. Still, Rigsby kept beating the bag at a vicious pace, unable to make himself stop.

He knew that one day soon Manuel Ortega would leave for counter-terror and Grace would be back, back in California where she belonged and he couldn't help but hope against all odds, back with him. Yeah, like that was happening, he actually scoffed as he continued his assault.

But what if Grace decided not to come back? What if she decided that Sacramento had too many memories and she needed a fresh start?

And there was the rub, the reason he had been treating Ortega, and everyone really, so badly: he was terrified that Grace wasn't actually going to come back. She had left sometime in the middle of the night after they had been together, leaving him with a note and a distinct sense of despair. Even now, he had a bad feeling deep in the pit of his stomach as he remembered her letter, which he had read easily a hundred times since that night.

_Wayne,_

_First, let me apologize for leaving without saying goodbye, but I just don't think I would have been able to say what I need to say to you face to face._

_I'm so sorry for pressuring you into... well, last night. You said it was a bad idea and you were right; you have a girlfriend, and I just killed my fiance, not exactly the best timing there, huh? _

That line had made him laugh, even though he knew it was entirely inappropriate, but Grace was only ever that blunt when she had no other way to say something. He kept going over the letter in his head.

_Please don't let last night ruin anything for you, please just forget it happened and go on with your life how it was, you seemed to be doing so well and the last thing I want to do is ruin that for you._

_Clearly I have never been the best choice for you Wayne, you're sweet and wonderful and I'm just... not for you. _

_Please accept my apologies for last night, it was absolutely the wrong choice._

_Grace_

After reading her letter for the first time, he had called her almost incessantly, but only ever got her voice mail. When he had gone into work the next day Lisbon had announced to the team that Grace had taken temporary leave and gone back to Iowa and he could feel his heart drop into his stomach at that. From the beginning he had been terrified she wouldn't be coming back, but he couldn't bring himself to call her after that, convinced he had taken advantage of her that night and scared her off.

Sure, that night she had begged him until he had caved, but she was reeling from a traumatic event and he should have had more control. He never had any control when it came to Grace. He hit the bag even harder as more memories of that night started to flood his senses.

_"Please, Wayne, please just do this for me" she begged against his neck, her breath hot against his skin and sending shivers through his body._

_"Grace," he whimpered "Grace, we can't. I can't. It's not right."_

_He felt her sob against him and her grip tightened around his torso._

_"Wayne," she choked "I need you so badly."_

_He pulled away from her to look her straight in the eyes and saw tears streaming down her cheeks._

_"Grace," he whispered "shh. Please don't cry."_

_He could feel her shaking in his arms and did the only thing he could think of, he wrapped his arms tighter around her and very gently captured her lips with his. He could feel her hot tears hitting his cheeks as she pulled him even closer to her, deepening the kiss._

Trying to clear the memories from his mind, he slammed his fist even harder into the bag, rattling the frame. As he continued his frenzied assault he could hear creaking from above him for several seconds before something came loose and the bag crashed to the ground, the metal frame crashing down after it and leaving Rigsby punching at air with a gash on his arm where the sharp end of the frame had hit him.

His face flushed with embarrassment as he noticed the three other agents in the gym staring at him with wide eyes.

"Um," he stuttered "sorry about that. I'll go get maintenance."

Rigsby quickly fled from the room, forgetting his stuff and not even noticing the blood dripping from his arm and onto the gym floor as he shut the door behind him, resting his back against it and desperately trying to clear his mind and catch his breath simultaneously.

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><p>"Lisbon!" Jane hollered from the break room.<p>

Lisbon rounded the corner only to see Jane standing with what appeared to be an empty box of tea.

"What?" she asked, exasperated.

"Someone has been pilfering my tea!" he exclaimed, indignant.

She rolled her eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"And how do you expect me to help?"

"Well I don't," he stated "I already know who it was."

She gave him an exasperated look before turning around to return to her office, calling over her shoulder:

"Then leave me the hell out of it!"

Excellent, Jane thought to himself, now that Lisbon wanted nothing to do with his scheme he had free reign to snoop through Ortega's desk; ostensibly, to look for his tea. Oh no, he had much more interesting things than tea to look into.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: The Mentalist is still not mine. For the sake of realism, lets say that a few weeks have passed since Grace left, though it may have said a week and a half in the first chapter. I'll try to find that and fix it.**

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><p>Regardless of Grace's protests, her mother had still called the doctor, a woman with long dark brown curls who looked to be perhaps only a little bit older than Grace herself. Neither Grace nor any of her siblings had gone to school with her, so it stood to reason that she was from out of town, as it was near impossible to find someone close in age that you didn't know in Battle Creek, a town of only 648 people.<p>

At the very least, Grace had insisted that she see the doctor alone, much to her mother's chagrin; but after five minutes of arguing her mother had given in to her wishes, a truly unusual reaction for Julie Van Pelt.

The doctor, Dr. Sandra Robinson, now sat across the kitchen table from Grace, reviewing her medical history and making a note or asking a question here and there.

"When did these symptoms first appear?"

Dr. Robinson looked up at her while asking, for the first time, and caught her off guard.

"Um," she stammered "maybe about a week ago. But it only really got bad this morning."

"Okay," the doctor noted "has anyone you know been sick recently?"

"I'm not sure," she said, pausing "but I haven't had my flu shot this year. That's probably all it is."

"That's very possible," Dr. Robinson started "I'd just like to be sure it's nothing worse."

The other woman smiled at her and Grace couldn't help but be thankful for her friendly demeanor.

"Is it possible you could be having a reaction to something in your food or environment?" she asked.

"I doubt it," Grace replied "I've never had problems with anything like that."

Dr. Robinson made a note in her papers.

"Have you traveled anywhere sub-tropical in the past six to eight months?"

"No," Grace answered, with certainty "I wish."

The doctor just chuckled as she made another note.

"Don't we all."

Grace smiled at that.

"Your mother says that you've been dealing with a significant amount of stress lately?" she posed it as a question, but Grace could tell she was just looking for confirmation.

"Yeah," she stated "but I'm always stressed, I'm a state agent in Sacramento."

"Ah, well then, we can rule that out" she said with a small smile.

Grace just laughed at that, appreciating that the doctor wasn't prying, a rarity these days.

"Is it possible you could be pregnant?" she asked.

Grace hadn't been expecting the question, and Dr. Robinson could see the surprise on her face, followed by panic as she started counting on her fingers. She watched as the young woman breathed a small sigh of relief, though some of the panic remained.

"I... I suppose it's possible." she started "But it's very unlikely."

She could still see nervousness etched into the other woman's face and made a point to speak in a soothing, yet still professional, voice.

"Alright, well, then how about you come into the office and we'll run a test?"

"Um, okay" Grace faltered "but could that just be between you and I?"

"Of course," Dr. Robinson stated "doctor-patient confidentiality."

Grace was immediately relieved, though still desperately hoping she just had the flu.

"How about you come in tomorrow?" the asked "Just get it over with."

"Yeah," Grace said "that'd be good."

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><p>Patrick Jane prided himself on being a cunning man, sneaky even, but today his plans seemed to be falling through at an alarming rate; every time he even so much as got close to Ortega's desk the man would appear out of thin air, suddenly needing to rearrange papers, check his email or sharpen an unusual number of pencils. Just as he was starting to lose hope and try to think up a decent Plan B, Lisa from Human Resources inadvertently rescued his original plan; pulling Agent Ortega down to her office to sort out a filing error.<p>

Perfect.

Jane quickly strode through the bullpen and over to the young agent's desk, making quick work of the lock on his drawer and beginning to rifle through various unimportant old case files and official stationary, looking for even the smallest shred of paper that could prove his theory or at least help him learn more about the new agent, who had, as of yet, proved to be rather mysterious.

Hmm, this could be something, he thought, holding up a photo he had found at the bottom of the drawer.

When he saw the picture more clearly, though, he knew immediately that it didn't belong to Agent Ortega.

In the picture stood a beaming Wayne Rigsby, his arms wrapped around an equally happy looking Grace Van Pelt. The couple clearly had no idea the picture was being taken and they were standing so that not a sliver of light could be seen between their bodies; Jane realized that he'd never seen either of them as happy as they were in this photo and it shot a pang of sadness through his chest. Grace was looking at Rigsby like he was the only person in the room, the adoration clear on her face, and Rigsby's expression mirrored her's almost exactly, though Jane realized that Rigsby looked more relaxed and content than he even imagined was possible for the slightly jumpy agent. It must have been taken at some sort of social function, as neither of them were wearing their work clothes, though they were both dressed in jeans and t-shirts that, Jane realized quickly, were splattered with paint. Some sort of housewarming party, perhaps, as there were other people visible in the background.

Temporarily clearing his head of the heartbreaking thoughts the picture had brought on, he quickly went back to snooping through Ortega's desk, not willing to waste another moment while the hawk eyed agent was otherwise occupied.

Not trusting his computer skills enough to snoop through Ortega's email, he quickly spotted the bag the agent carried into work with him everyday and began to sort through various papers, electrical cables and what appeared to be Ortega's lunch, before finally landing on something that could be of interest to him; a digital camera.

Oh yes, this would do quite nicely.

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><p><strong>Review if you'd like to.<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: Not mine. Never will be.**

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><p>Quickly pocketing both Ortega's camera and the photo he had found in the desk drawer, Jane headed towards the stairs and up to his attic lair.<p>

Arriving in his makeshift office, he made a point of locking the door behind him and sliding a chair in front of it for good measure before settling himself on his small bed, using a pillow to prop himself up against the wall and avoid splinters. He then reached into his jacket, pulling out the small camera and turning it on with a quiet ping.

Not really one for technology, it took him a moment to figure out how to operate the device without snapping a picture of his pant legs, though he was able to find the button to review the photos and was even able to delete the picture he had taken by accident. With a proud grin, he began to look through the photos.

So far, most of the photos were fairly normal and nondescript; a dog with a large stick, a child's birthday party, the Golden Gate Bridge and three young men in party hats among them. Perhaps his thievery and snooping had been wasted on this camera, he thought as he continued to scroll through the images, very few of which Agent Ortega actually appeared in. It seemed that he would get very little information from this, but still, he refused to give up before he had seen every last photo on the camera.

* * *

><p>Ortega walked back into the bullpen, the woman from HR giving him a flirtatious smile and a wave at the door, as she had followed him back upstairs for some reason.<p>

"Where'd Jane go?" he asked Rigsby, sitting down at his desk.

"Up to his lair, I think" Rigsby muttered, using air quotes at the word 'lair.'

"Of course."

Ortega just shook his head at that, perfectly aware that Jane had been snooping through his desk and rearranging papers that Jane had moved.

He was straightening the papers in his drawer when his desk phone rang.

"Agent Manuel Ortega, CBI" he answered.

There was silence on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Um, hello.." a quiet voice spoke "I think I have the wrong number."

Something about the call seemed odd to Ortega, so he quickly started running a trace program as he spoke to the caller.

"Well, who are you looking for?" he asked gently.

"I was," the voice faltered "well," the person paused again "I was looking for information on a Craig O'Laughlin."

"Oh," he paused, confused "may I ask who's calling?"

"Julie Van Pelt" the voice answered, suddenly confident.

"Julie... Oh!" he exclaimed, suddenly understanding the situation he found himself in.

"Um," he started "I'm not sure what CBI policy is regarding your request ma'am."

"Well could you check?"

It was phrased as a question, but Ortega understood a demand when he heard one.

"Sure, just a moment."

The agent quickly hit the hold button on the phone console and looked around the bullpen to see if anyone other than Rigsby was around, he didn't think having this conversation with Rigsby would be the best choice but it appeared he had no other option. He would have to proceed very delicately.

"Agent Rigsby?" he started.

Rigsby looked up from his desk, evidently surprised to be called upon.

"Yeah?"

"I, uh..." he started awkwardly, unsure how to explain the situation "What's CBI policy on disclosing information of an officer involved shooting to families?"

"That depends, is it the officer's family asking, or the victim's?" he asked.

"Um, the officer's. But she's asking _about_ the victim."

"That's odd," Rigsby replied "what exactly is she asking?"

"She just said she wants information on the victim."

Rigsby thought for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly _would_ be appropriate in this situation.

"Could you ask her to be more specific?" he asked.

"Sure, just a second."

Ortega reached for the phone and reconnected the line.

"Hello ma'am, sorry to keep you waiting." he started.

"Could you be more specific as to the information you're looking for?"

He heard an inhale of breath on the other end of the line.

"I'd like to know what sort of man he was while he was with my Grace, the circumstances of his death; really anything you can give me."

"Sure," he began "just one more second ma'am."

"Of course" she replied.

Ortega put her back on hold and looked up at Rigsby, who was now just as curious as he was about the call.

"She wants any information I can give her" he stated.

"Alright," Rigsby replied "well, just try to stick to the official report as much as possible."

"I wasn't here for this case, I don't have the report."

"I can get it for you if you'd like." Rigsby offered "Which case is it?"

"Um," he started, knowing he couldn't bring up the actual case with Rigsby "Davison."

"Alright," Rigsby stood up "that's down in records, I'll just go grab it."

Ortega felt kind of bad, as he knew that particular case wasn't on the computer system and Rigsby would have to go down to the basement to get it, but there was no way he could go through O'Laughlin's file with him in the room.

He reconnected the call, bringing the relevant files up on his computer as he did so.

"Now, Mrs. Van Pelt, you need to understand that I didn't work this case, and so I might not know as many details as someone who did. I can get you another agent if you'd like."

"No, no" she started "it's better you weren't involved. I'd like to hear an unbiased opinion."

"Alright then," he began "this unit came into contact with FBI Agent Craig O'Laughlin during a previous case. He formed a personal relationship with Agent Grace Van Pelt that lasted several months, culminating in him proposing marriage, which she accepted. At the same time, CBI Agent J.J Laroche was conduction an investigation into the death of accused murderer Todd Johnson in CBI custody. He had a short list of potential suspects that included both Agent O'Laughlin and CBI Special Agent in Charge Madelaine Hightower. Agent Hightower had been absent without leave and was, at that point, presumed guilty by both Agent Laroche and the Director of the CBI, Gale Bertram."

"And what does this have to do with my daughter or Craig O'Laughlin?" Julie interrupted.

"It shows that the suspect pool had essentially been reduced to one person, Agent Hightower, and that all other suspects were being ignored at that time." Ortega replied.

"On the day of Agent O'Laughlin's death he accompanied Agent Van Pelt to a potential crime scene and the suspected residence of Agent Hightower. Agent Van Pelt entered the residence and Agent O'Laughlin remained in the car. At some point Agent O'Laughlin exited the vehicle, killing two Sacramento Police officers and entering the residence. It was at this point that he discharged his gun, hitting Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon in the upper arm and holding Agents Hightower and Van Pelt at gunpoint. Agent Hightower's two children made their presence known, distracting her, and Agent O'Laughlin took this opportunity to attempt to discharge his weapon. Before he had the chance, Agent Van Pelt discharged her weapon three times, hitting him in the upper torso and wounding him fatally. It was a justified and sanctioned shooting and Agent Van Pelt will not be facing charges."

He heard another sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line as well as what sounded like soft crying.

However, he was unable to respond immediately as Rigsby entered the room and placed the Davison file on his desk.

"Thanks" he mouthed.

Rigsby nodded.

Ortega made a point of opening the file and flipping to a particularly wordy report.

"So Grace wasn't hurt?" the woman asked, drawing his attention back to the phone.

"No ma'am, not physically."

"So you're implying that she's been somehow psychologically damaged by this?"

He could hear the panic in the woman's voice as she practically screeched through the phone.

"No. No ma'am," he began "that wasn't what I was implying at all. An incident such as this would certainly be traumatic and all I was saying is that it wouldn't surprising for there to be residual emotional effects this soon after the incident, that's all."

"Right," she replied, calmer now "of course, you're right."

"I'm sorry ma'am, I know this must be a difficult time. Was there any more information you needed?"

"Yes, actually." she replied, though clearly hesitant "Is there anyone who works at the Bureau, perhaps in your unit, with the first name Wayne?"

Her question threw him off and he found his eyes flying to Rigsby of their own accord. Now this was a little weird.

"Yes ma'am," he answered "though I don't see the relevance."

"Oh, it's nothing," she stated "just Grace always seems to be yelling for him in her sleep."

If Agent Ortega had been in the Van Pelt living room he would have seen Julie Van Pelt slap her hand quickly over her mouth, realizing she'd over stepped her boundaries.

"Disregard that, Agent" she said forcefully.

"Yes ma'am" he replied automatically.

"Thank you for your help" she said, softer now.

"It was no problem, if you need anything else don't hesitate to call."

"I won't, thank you."

"Have a nice day ma'am."

"You too Agent."

He just heard the dial tone as the woman hung up, leaving him sitting at his desk with more information to process.

His attention was then drawn to a blinking light on his computer screen; his trace had come back.

"Battle Creek, Iowa" he muttered to himself, picking up the Davison file and heading down to the basement to put it back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: Not mine. The Mentalist, that is.**

* * *

><p>Cho made his way up to the attic, having received a text from Jane to meet him in his lair. Dread was building inside him with every step; no private conversation was ever a good thing with Jane and the word 'lair' was distinctly foreboding.<p>

He entered the room without knocking, finding Jane sitting serenely in his desk chair, a smug grin appearing on his face when he spotted Cho.

"How lovely of you to join me Agent Cho" he teased.

"Cut the crap Jane. What do you want?" Cho asked, expression unchanging, as usual.

"Why Kimball Cho, what would make you assume I want anything?"

The faux innocent look on Jane's face didn't fool him for a second and he turned towards the door.

"Alright then, I have paperwork to finish."

Jane stood from his chair rather abrubtly.

"Wait" he called, managing to keep a relatively calm demeanor.

Cho turned back around, knowing he had at least some semblance of control in this exchange.

"Yes?"

"I would like to ask you a few questions, harmless stuff, really."

"Doubtful," Cho replied "but go on."

"How is homosexuality viewed in Korean culture?" Jane pondered aloud.

Cho had to admit, of all the bizarre questions Jane could have asked, he had not been expecting that one. Though his face remained impassive as always, he found his hands starting to perspire.

"Not positively" he stated.

"Hmm," Jane hummed "I figured as much."

"Then why'd you ask me?" Cho wondered.

"Insider perspective." he stated.

"Alright then..." Cho started, before being interrupted by Jane once again.

"How did your parents take it?"

"Take what?"

Cho was now thanking his military training and naturally calm demeanor, as he was sure he would be beet red and spluttering if he were Wayne Rigsby.

"When they found out you were sleeping with boys, of course. Probably in your teens, and most likely before you joined the gang."

"Interesting story. If it were true I'm sure it would have given my father a much needed heart-attack" he deadpanned.

"Very funny," Jane smiled and chuckled at him "but I'm serious. I'm also guessing that's why you don't speak to your family... Well, except your sister of course."

Cho narrowed his eyes. How the hell did Jane know he still spoke to his sister? Nobody else even knew he _had_ a sister; his family wasn't something he discussed.

"I don't speak to my family because gang members aren't a Korean parent's dream come true. How did you know I have a sister?" he asked, curious and peeved.

"Oh that's easy," Jane started, smug smile firmly in place "you only speak Korean on the phone about once a week. I just traced and googled from there."

"You traced my calls?"

At this point, even Jane could see that Cho was irritated, though he couldn't quite distinguish whether he was mad about him spying or if he had struck a nerve with his hypothesis.

"Stay away from my sister, Jane."

Cho turned towards the door, swinging it open before turning to face Jane once again, face like stone.

"And I'm not gay" he finished, turning his back on the consultant and shutting the door behind him.

* * *

><p>Grace sat in Dr. Robinson's office, anxiously chewing her nails and tapping her foot while reading the medical posters on the wall. She had insisted Josh come with her for moral support, and so he was sitting in a chair in the corner, unsuccessfully trying to distract her.<p>

Getting fed up of her constant fidgeting, he intervened.

"Grace!" he exclaimed.

She paused her fidgeting to look at him.

"Stop it," he stated, speaking more softly now "you're making me dizzy."

"Sorry" she muttered, trying to calm herself down.

"I'm just... Terrified," she said "I'm terrified."

Josh moved over to sit next to her, the medical paper crinkling as he sat down.

"Well," he started "what's the worst case scenario?"

Grace just looked at him, her face incredulous that he would even have to ask.

"Hear me out." he said "You don't even know what's wrong yet Grace, and would being pregnant really be all that horrible?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Joshua knew he had stepped in it. However he was surprised when Grace's wrath didn't immediately rain down on him in the form of physical violence and instead he heard her begin to cry softly.

"Grace, I'm sorry. That didn't come out quite right."

"It's fine." she said, trying to wipe the tears from her face "This is just so _not _how I expected this moment in my life to be; sitting in the doctor's office with my _brother_, single, terrified and just waiting to go back to California and screw everyone's lives up."

She was now completely unable to prevent tears spilling over and onto her cheeks, letting out a small sob.

"Shh, Grace," he comforted "it's alright. This might not be ideal, but even if you are pregnant it wouldn't be the disaster you're imagining."

"I just have no idea how to explain it" she sobbed.

"Well it's not like you knew what he was when it happened, you thought he was the man you were going to marry."

Grace paused, looking at him with a confused expression.

"Wait, what?" she asked.

"O'Laughlin," he said, as though it was obvious "you didn't know what he was after when this happened."

Realization dawned on Grace's face and she ducked her head as she spoke, barely audible.

"It's not him."

It was Josh's turn to be confused as he took in his sister's statement.

"What do you mean?" he questioned.

Grace just sighed.

"If I'm pregnant, Craig O'Laughlin is not the father."

As Josh sat with a somewhat shocked look on his face, Dr. Robinson chose that moment to enter the room with the results of Grace's tests.

* * *

><p>Rigsby sat in his apartment mindlessly flipping through television channels, nothing seeming to occupy his mind for more than four or five seconds; besides Grace, that is. He was still unable to think about anything other than her for any extended period of time, though he was doing a better job of hiding it at work.<p>

He got up and rooted around in his fridge and cupboards, but when he thought of actually eating he found himself nauseated instead of hungry. He'd been feeling like that a lot lately, and though he knew it was just stress he still couldn't quite get used to it.

Collapsing back onto his soft leather couch, he shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on anything but her, with little success. Frustrated, he balled his hand into a fist and lowered it quickly onto his thigh, hitting it, but only registering a small ache; an ache he seemed to feel everywhere and all the time.

For the first time since they had been apart, a tear slid down his cheek, and then another, and another and Wayne Rigsby finally allowed himself to cry, burying his face in the crook of his elbow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: The Mentalist is not mine. Review if you'd like. Also, as much as I hated the ending of 'My Bloody Valentine' I've decided to add parts of that plot line in as well. Sounds vaguely confusing, but it'll make more sense once you read it.**

* * *

><p>The doctor's words rang in Grace's head, halting all movement and coherent thought.<p>

_Pregnant. She was pregnant._

"Grace?"

Josh rested his hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to respond, or at the very least, stop holding her breath.

She still couldn't quite process what the doctor had just told her, all of it seeming so surreal.

_She was pregnant._

* * *

><p>"I don't know what to do," Sarah whispered into the phone "he's distancing from me and I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold his attention for."<p>

A male voice replied from the other line.

"Don't worry about it, I already have a plan. Wayne Rigsby won't be gone anytime soon. Meet me at the Lakeshore Motel at two and we'll discuss."

The dial tone sounded in her ear as he hung up and she hummed to herself, confident that Red John had a plan; he always did.

* * *

><p>Wayne logged off of his computer and dumped three unfinished files in his top drawer. He could see Sarah getting off the elevator, come to meet him for a late lunch, so he stood and grabbed his jacket, doing it up just as she entered the bullpen.<p>

He really felt bad about the situation he had put her in; he hadn't really been interested in her in the first place, but Grace was with O'Laughlin and he had figured he should move on as well. Now he had cheated on her and ignored her for the past couple of weeks, so today he was going to break up with her and thoroughly apologize for the way he'd treated her. If she didn't kill him first, that is.

"Hey Wayne," she greeted him cheerfully "ready to go?"

"Yeah" he said rather flatly, leading her to the elevator.

The drive to the restaurant was silent, with Sarah occasionally asking him about work or the weather or something else that he didn't really pay much attention to. When they finally did reach their destination, Rigsby had hardly said more than a sentence, mentally preparing how he would explain himself to her.

They were seated at a booth by the window, the waitress leaving them with water and menus, and only then did Rigsby begin to speak.

"Listen, Sarah," he began "we have to talk."

Obviously seeing where this conversation was going, she cut him off.

"Wait," she said "me first."

Wayne was clearly surprised by that, gesturing for her to continue.

"I'm pregnant" she stated.

All the color drained from his face at that and his mouth slowly started to gape open; he looked like he was trying to swallow but he was having no success, instead looking like a fish out of water.

"What?" he rasped, still not managing to blink or swallow correctly.

"Pregnant." she said again "With a baby. Yours."

Wayne groped at the table, finally managing to grab his glass of water and drink all of it seemingly in one gulp, before signaling to the waitress for another.

He could feel his head spinning and dread sinking deep into the pit of his stomach. No. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be pregnant. Not with his kid. Not now. Not ever. He had started sweating and grabbed at his tie, desperately trying to loosen it and accidentally pulling it off entirely. This was not how this lunch was supposed to go; he was supposed to break up with her, she was supposed to be mad. This couldn't be happening.

* * *

><p>Lisbon sat in her office, finishing a case report and waiting for Jane's inevitable daily intrusion. She was entirely unsurprised when she heard her door swing open, followed by Jane's usual joviality.<p>

"What a beautiful day! Don't you agree Lisbon?"

"What are you up to Jane?" she asked, immediately suspicious.

"Now now Lisbon, a little cynical aren't we?"

"Not cynical," she responded "I've just known you for too long."

"Ah," he chuckled "so just well informed."

"Something like that."

Lisbon slid the paper she had been writing on into a folder and put her pen in a cup on her desk before turning to Jane.

"So," she started "what did you want?"

Her tone was less accusatory and she now seemed genuinely curious, as it wasn't very often that Jane came into her office without a clear scheme in mind.

"I was wondering when Van Pelt gets back from her leave."

"Oh," she started "in about a week I think."

Lisbon was surprised at his question, as it didn't seem to have the same strategic value that most Jane inqueries did.

"Thank you, Lisbon" he said, exiting her office quickly.

Well that was strange, even for Jane.

* * *

><p>Cho was sitting reading a book at his desk when Rigsby returned from his lunch break, looking flustered, frazzled and thoroughly nauseous. He looked bad, even for Rigsby.<p>

Cho stood up and cautiously walked over to the other man's desk.

"You don't look so good" he stated, watching Rigsby's hands twitch as he tried to log into his account.

"What are you talking about? I'm fine. Everything's fine."

There was a decidedly manic look in the larger agent's eyes and Cho found himself dragging Rigsby into the men's room once again, though this time he made a point of grabbing the coffee mug on his desk; it looked like Rigsby could use a glass of water... And maybe a Valium, but that was something he didn't have on him.

In the washroom Cho calmly filled the mug before handing it to Rigsby, who downed it in one go before filling it up again himself.

"You know, being your therapist is getting tiresome" Cho deadpanned.

Rigsby actually snorted at that, which Cho took as a good sign; at least he was responding.

"So?" Cho asked.

"Sarah's pregnant" he said quietly, almost as if he didn't want to hear it himself.

It was Cho's turn to be shocked, standing at the sink and gaping, before cocking his head.

"Man," he said "you have the worst luck, don't you?"

Rigsby just swiped his hand down over his face, trying to figure out how he had gotten into this mess.


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: Still not mine. Review if you'd like. I appreciated the review I got :)**

* * *

><p>Safety announcements blared over the speakers and the flight attendants roamed up and down the aisles reminding people to buckle their seat belts; a baby cried somewhere near the back of the plane and the man in the seat in front of her reclined his chair, before being quickly reprimanded by a wandering flight attendant and snapping it back into it's original position.<p>

Grace just wanted to be in Sacramento already, dreading the flight more and more by the second.

Josh was seated beside her, even giving her the aisle seat so she'd be able to get up more quickly if a bout of morning sickness hit her, as it was really more like any random time sickness.

She had tried to convince him that she'd be fine on her own and that he should just go home to New York, but she had to admit that it might be nice to come home to somebody, even if it was just her brother. Besides, he had been adamant about being there at least for the first little while.

"You alright?" he asked, noticing the white knuckled grip she had on her arm rest.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Just nervous about going home."

He placed his hand on her arm and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Everything will be alright Grace, I promise."

She couldn't help but be mildly comforted by that, it really was nice to have her older brother looking out for her, because she wasn't feeling all that good about anything right now.

* * *

><p>Patrick Jane stood in front of the baggage claim at Sacramento International Airport looking up at the arrivals board. Flight 268 from Des Moines had just landed and he could see the first couple of passengers trickle into the baggage area, looking stunned and thoroughly tired of being awake. He couldn't help but chuckle at the expression of an older man as he passed through the doors and saw the crowd outside clamoring for taxis.<p>

Grace strolled through the doors about halfway through the pack of passengers, walking with a tall redheaded man who was quite obviously her brother; hell, they could have been twins, but Patrick knew that Grace didn't have a twin from snooping through her file, so he was fairly sure he was just her brother.

He could see the exact moment that Grace noticed him, she had a confused look on her face, obviously not expecting him to be there, but she made her way over to him anyways, her brother following behind her.

"Hello, Grace" he said, smiling.

"Hi." she said "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm here to pick you up. Duh."

Grace couldn't help but laugh at his ridiculous expression.

"Alright then," she said "but are you sure you have enough room in your car?"

"Hmm," Jane hummed "probably not. I hadn't anticipated you bringing your brother. We'll make it work though."

"How did you know he's my brother?" Grace asked, feeling ridiculous for doing so when she looked back at Josh and saw the painfully obvious resemblance.

"Never mind" she said, seeing the looks on both Josh and Jane's faces.

"I'm Josh" he said, proffering his hand.

"Ah, Josh, wonderful to meet you. Patrick Jane."

Jane shook his hand and looked him up and down, profiling his every detail.

"You and Grace are close," he started "neither of you much liked Iowa growing up, you feel guilty because you live so far away from her, probably on the East Coast, though not that you live far from the rest of your family as she's the only one you really get along with."

"Jane..." Grace tried to interrupt.

Jane continued anyways.

"Your family still wishes you'd find yourself a girlfriend and get over the gay thing even though you have a very serious boyfriend... No, husband. I bet you got married as soon as it was legal in New York."

Josh just chuckled at Jane's analysis of him.

"You're everything Grace has described, Mr. Jane."

"Please," Jane started "call me Patrick."

* * *

><p>Sarah smiled at the man beside her in bed.<p>

"How much longer do I have to keep pretending?" she asked.

"Not much longer," he replied "but until then you need to stay close to Wayne Rigsby. Since O'Laughlin died, my access to the CBI has been limited, and we can't have that."

"Of course not," she started "I'm just really not that fond of Rigsby."

"Good." he said "O'Laughlin got too close to Van Pelt and look where it got him."

"Mhmm," she hummed in agreement "you should have seen his face when I told him I was pregnant. Look like he was going to pass out."

They both laughed at that, before he turned serious again.

"Well, hopefully you are pregnant now" he winked "just not by Wayne Rigsby. By me."

* * *

><p>"So," Jane started, loading Grace's luggage into the back of his car "I did have an ulterior motive for coming to get you."<p>

Grace just laughed, expecting as much.

"Figured" she stated.

"Well," he started "I just wanted to be the one to tell you. I didn't want you to have to hear through the office gossip mill, meaning Lisa from Human Resources."

"Okay, now you're making me nervous."

Josh took the bag from Grace's hands and helped Patrick load it into the small car.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Patrick said "It's just, it seems that Rigsby's girlfriend has..."

For some reason he couldn't seem to finish his thought, making Grace even more nervous.

"What?" she demanded "What happened?"

"Well," Jane started again, trying to be sensitive "she's pregnant."

Grace turned a ghostly shade of white at that and Jane noticed Josh move forward as if to steady her on her feet.

"Oh," she whispered "that's... Great. Good for him."

"Grace?" Josh questioned.

"Drop it Josh," she ground out "it doesn't matter."

The ride to Grace's apartment was quiet, with only Josh speaking once and a while to ask questions about the city, which Jane happily answered. Grace didn't say a word the whole trip, just stared out the window with a pained look on her face.


	11. Chapter 11

**Note: The Mentalist is not mine.**

* * *

><p>Grace quickly thanked Jane for the ride, grabbing her bag and rushing into her apartment at what was almost a run.<p>

Josh turned towards Jane with an apologetic look.

"Sorry," he said "she's just... stressed."

Jane laughed at that, leaning against his car to face Josh.

"Understandable. What with her still being in love with Rigsby and all."

"Noticed that, huh?" Josh deadpanned.

Jane just chuckled again.

"Yes." he stated "I'm perceptive like that."

Josh just smiled and shook his head.

"It was very nice to meet you, Patrick." he said, shaking the consultant's hand "I should probably go check on Grace."

With that, he turned and entered the apartment complex, hitting the elevator button for the third floor.

* * *

><p>Cho watched from his desk as Ortega packed up his things and cleaned out his desk, preparing for Grace's return and his move to counter-terror. He couldn't help but be a little bit disappointed - glad Grace was coming back, sure - but not really wanting to see Ortega leave. He really didn't want to admit what his feelings were for the other man, so he'd simply stuck to saying that he was professional, good at his job and he liked being around him.<p>

Who was he kidding? He'd fallen for the other agent, much to his own horror. He found that he always wanted to be around him, and the attraction he'd noticed the first couple of days had only gotten worse. Much worse. In fact, last week he had seen Ortega shirtless at the gym and almost came right on the spot, having to run to the bathroom before anyone noticed his rapidly tenting shorts. Much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't fight it anymore and he had been forced to give in to the realization that he was, in fact, gay.

Finished packing his box, Ortega turned and walked towards Cho's desk. Cho quickly tried to busy himself with work and really hoped the other man hadn't noticed him staring, because that would be both terribly embarrassing and a potential career ender in his profession if Ortega were to find out he was gay and take offense. What the other man said next shocked him.

"Hey, would you maybe like to get dinner sometime?"

Cho gaped. Had he really just said what he thought he had? And so casually.

"What?" was all he managed to get out, in a bit of a squeak, no less.

"Dinner." he repeated "You know, food, a meal. With me."

He had a smile on his face as he said this, which threw Cho for another loop.

"Sure" he found himself squeaking again.

"Good," Ortega smiled "pick you up on Friday at seven?"

"Yeah" Cho said, just managing to get his voice under control.

"It's a date." Ortega said, smiling and picking up his box of stuff before heading to the elevator.

What the hell had just happened? Had Ortega just asked him on a date? Cho found himself smiling involuntarily at the thought. He really hoped this was a date.

* * *

><p>As Josh entered Grace's apartment, he could hear quiet sobbing coming from a back room, what he assumed was her bedroom. He put his bag down beside the couch and made his way through her apartment and towards the source of the noise, finding Grace curled up in the fetal position in the middle of her bed. She just couldn't seem to catch a break lately.<p>

"Grace?" he asked softly.

"Go away. I don't want to talk about it." she sobbed.

He went and sat down on the edge of her bed anyways.

"I'm not going to push it Grace," he started "we need groceries, I'm going to go get some. Is there anything you want?"

Josh knew that Grace was incredibly overwhelmed, he also knew his sister, and when she was upset she needed time alone. Besides, he was starving and the only things in Grace's fridge were very expired milk and incredibly suspect looking, and smelling, Indian food.

"You want food?" he asked "I can pick up take out on the way back."

"Greek" she mumbled against her mattress.

"Greek it is." he said.

Kissing her on the forehead and heading out to attempt to find a grocery store and Greek restaurant he was suddenly very thankful for the smartphone.

Josh returned about two hours later with both groceries and Greek food, finding Grace sitting on the couch watching some infomercial. He was almost 100% sure she wasn't actually watching it though, or at least he hoped not.

"Dinner's here" he called.

Grace got up without a word, getting plates and cutlery from the cabinets and taking the food out of the bags it came in, opening the containers and dishing out equal portions onto both plates, seemingly on auto-pilot. She sat down at the kitchen table and handing Josh his plate and cutlery without a word and beginning to eat her dinner.

"You want to talk?" Josh asked around a mouthful of lamb kebab.

"Not really. But I have the feeling you won't stop asking until I do."

"You'd be right."

Josh gave her a small smile that Grace couldn't help but return, though she quickly turned serious again as she spoke.

"I'm not going to tell him."

Josh choked on a mouthful of potato.

"What?" he exclaimed, mouth still half full.

"I told him to move on," she explained "and he did, albeit a little quickly, but that's his choice. If he's happy, I'm happy. And I'm not going to ruin his happiness, not to mention his relationship, by telling him that I'm pregnant with his kid. I'll just tell him it's O'Laughlin's."

Josh looked at her with an incredulous expression, mouth agape with potato clearly visible.

"You've got to be kidding!" he spat, a tad too literally.

Grace just wiped his potatoes off her knife and gave him a look that he realized she probably got from their mother.

"I'm not talking about this anymore. That's my choice. Agree or don't."

* * *

><p>Across town, Wayne Rigsby was sitting in his apartment, watching the same infomercial, paying no attention whatsoever.<p>

This was a disaster. He wasn't even sure how it was possible. He and Sarah hadn't been together like _that_ since before Grace killed O'Laughlin. Unless she had kept it from him for so long, it wasn't possible. Although, they hadn't really talked much after that, it was possible she had just found out later and just got up the nerve to tell him now.

Of course this would happen. Right when Grace was coming back, his almost-ex-girlfriend would tell him she was pregnant. If his chances with Grace were depressing before, they had just gotten a whole lot worse.

He got up off the couch and made his way to his cupboard, the one where he kept the liquor. He'd be needing it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Note: The Mentalist does not belong to me. Review if you'd like.**

* * *

><p>Grace made a point of getting to work extremely early the next day, entering the office to find it dark and empty, just as she'd hoped. She turned on her desk light and went about organizing her desk to her liking. She noticed that her replacement had left a note for her in the middle of her desk.<p>

_Agent Van Pelt,_

_You have a message from Lisa from HR; she apparently wants to look through some file of yours, though I think she just wants to gossip at you._

Grace laughed at that, knowing all too well that Lisa was the biggest busy body in the building.

_Anyways, I've left your desk largely in the condition I found it in, though Mr. Jane may have been snooping._

She laughed again at that.

_I've enjoyed working with your team and have heard only good things about you, I wish you all the best._

_Manuel Ortega_

Grace smiled as she finished reading the note. Whoever her replacement had been, she figured she should probably stop by and thank him as she really hadn't been expecting her first day back to start on a positive note.

She folded the note and put it in her desk drawer, starting her computer and leaning back in her chair with a sigh.

* * *

><p>Lisbon wasn't surprised to see Grace sitting at her desk working on something on her computer, she knew that the young woman would be the first in today, and probably all week.<p>

"Hey Grace," she called "welcome back!"

Grace turned her head to look at Lisbon.

"Thanks boss" she said quietly.

"You alright?" Lisbon asked.

""Yeah," she said "just tired."

Lisbon just laughed.

"Shouldn't have come in so early then."

Grace smiled back at her, shrugging her shoulders.

Lisbon made her way over to her office, noticing that something seemed distinctly different about the younger agent. Oh well, that was probably normal after what Grace had been through, she figured. She'd make sure to check up on her though.

* * *

><p>It was about 7:30 when everyone else started to arrive; first Cho, then Jane, and finally Rigsby, looking more than a little worse for wear.<p>

Even in his compromised state, Rigsby immediately noticed Grace's presence. God, she looked beautiful. He once again cursed the situation that he found himself in, as just a few days ago her presence would have left him elated, but now all he felt was depressed, trapped in a situation he hated, but that his conscience wouldn't let him escape. He would kill to go back in time and never speak to Sarah.

He made his way over to his desk and sat down, trying not to look at Grace and also desperately trying to figure out how he would explain himself to her. He needed her to understand that this wasn't supposed to happen, that this wasn't what he wanted and it never had been; at least not with Sarah.

* * *

><p>The tension in the bullpen was oppressive and Jane wondered again whether telling Van Pelt about Rigsby's predicament had been the right choice. He very rarely questioned his own judgement, but this was one of those occasions when he thought that perhaps he should have just kept his mouth shut. There was clearly something going on with Van Pelt that he didn't know about, and it had thrown yet another wrench into an already dismal situation.<p>

He continued to observe the young woman closely, as he had been all morning, and noted that she was hyper focused - as usual - but she also looked much paler than he'd ever seen her. Probably just stress, he reasoned.

She stood abruptly from her chair and took off at an unusually brisk pace down the hallway.

That was odd, even for today, so he stood as well and made his way after her, stopping very briefly at the door to the women's restroom before pushing it open and entering the room.

The sound of wretching greeted him and he made his way to the stall from which it came, seeing the bottom of Grace's boots from under the door and realizing that she must be kneeling.

"Grace?" he called.

When the wretching finally took a small break, Grace replied.

"What the hell are you doing here Jane?" she spat.

"I was worried" he replied.

"Well don't be..." she started, before another bout of sickness overcame her.

Finally regaining her composure, Grace called from her spot on the floor.

"I'm fine. And this is the ladies room. You should leave."

"Grace, what's wrong?"

He sounded genuinely concerned, and that threw her off guard.

"I just have the flu Jane, please leave me alone."

"Alright, I'm leaving." he started "But if you ever need to talk..."

She cut him off.

"I won't."

Jane reluctantly left the room, hearing Grace get sick again, and walked back to the bullpen as one of the secretaries gave him an odd look.

* * *

><p>Marie Langley had worked at the CBI for more than twenty years, so she had seen her share of oddities, but Patrick Jane topped them all. She watched him stroll casually from the ladies restroom and shook her head, wondering if his mother had taught him even one thing about decorum. Evidently not, she thought to herself as she entered the washroom, looking around once to make sure that there wasn't anybody else in there.<p>

It was then that she heard it. Wretching followed by soft crying. She could see somebody was kneeling in the second stall, being sick. All thoughts of Patrick Jane disappeared from her mind as she walked over to the middle of the room, concerned.

"Are you alright?" she called.

She heard the toilet flush, before the door to the stall swung open and a tall redhead that she vaguely recognized walked out.

"Yes," the woman replied "I'm fine."

The taller woman made her way to the sinks, splashing water on her face and swishing some in her mouth.

"I know it's probably none of my business," Marie began "but there seems to be something quite the matter."

Her maternal instincts were kicking into overdrive as she watched the younger woman desperately swipe at her tear stained face.

"Really," she stated "I'm fine."

"How far along are you?" she asked quietly.

The other woman's head popped up, eyes wide and face panic stricken.

"What.." she stuttered "I mean, how..."

"I've been pregnant enough times to know what it looks like." she smiled.

"Oh."

"I take it this wasn't planned" she stated softly.

"No" the other woman replied, looking down.

"And you haven't told the father."

"No."

Marie walked over and gave the taller woman a motherly hug, which she surprisingly, but happily, accepted.

"Eventually, things will get better" Marie assured.

The other woman sighed.

"People keep saying that..."

"And you don't see how," Marie replied "but once the baby's here that will all change. You'll see."

She gave the woman a small smile before leaving her to gather her thoughts and fix her makeup.


	13. Chapter 13

**Note: I do not own The Mentalist. Review if you'd like.**

* * *

><p>Cho couldn't remember the last time he'd been this nervous. He had cleaned his apartment thoroughly while waiting for Ortega and now he was obsessing over his hair; not something that he had ever done before.<p>

He wasn't even sure this was a date; he was terribly unfamiliar with the protocol when going out with another man. He had changed four times before settling on dark jeans and a black v-neck sweater, an outfit that would be acceptable for a date, a professional dinner or dinner with a friend.

It was the not knowing that drove him crazy; if he knew for sure what the expectations were, he'd be fine. Did he call Ortega by his last name? His first name? He supposed that he would have to let the other man take the lead on this as he was already too flustered to function properly.

The doorbell rang and he had to force himself to breath deeply, before taking calm, measured steps towards the door and opening it.

Now, more than ever, he hoped this was a date.

Ortega was wearing navy blue khakis that fit him much too well and a white button down shirt that was rolled up at the elbows; his hair was pulled up and away from his face, much as it was at work, but it looked much more casual; windswept, almost. And as always, he had that smile on his face that made Cho inexplicably flustered every time it was aimed in his direction.

"Hey, ready to go?" Ortega asked, that damn smile never leaving his face.

"Is this a date?" Cho blurted out, much to his horror.

Ortega just kept smiling.

"Yeah. It is. If you want it to be, that is."

"I do."

"Good," Ortega replied "shall we?"

They stepped outside into the cool night air, Cho now much more relaxed than he had been while getting dressed.

* * *

><p>"Rigsby! Van Pelt! My office!"<p>

Lisbon's voice carried through the bullpen and the two agents stood, not looking at each other and walking straight into their boss' office.

"Sit down" Lisbon instructed as soon as they walked through the door.

The two agents sat quickly, both desperately hoping that this wouldn't take very long, as even being in this close proximity to each other was proving difficult.

"Do you guys remember Clark Wu?" she asked.

Both agents nodded, and Rigsby spoke.

"Triad gang leader, we want him on human trafficking charges."

"Yeah," Lisbon replied "well he's got a club in San Francisco and you two are the only ones he's never actually met, pack your bags."

"What?" Grace exclaimed, quickly embarrassed by her outburst "I mean, is that strictly necessary?"

Lisbon couldn't help but notice the uneasy dynamic between the two agents in front of her.

"Unfortunately, yes. We've been after him for a year and a half and our window is rapidly closing. I don't much like it either, but this is our only option."

Great, Van Pelt thought to herself, she have to spend time in a club with Rigsby. She had never been too fond of clubs to begin with and she really had no idea how she would behave in such close proximity to Rigsby. All she knew was that this probably wouldn't end well.

* * *

><p>Three hours later, Rigsby and Van Pelt found themselves in the middle of a sweaty, dancing mass of bodies, dressed for the clubs and swaying to music they hadn't heard since the mid-90's.<p>

Rigsby was finding it incredibly difficult to concentrate with Grace in his arms, wearing a short, tight, black dress and impossibly high heels. She was so close to him, he could feel her heartbeat through both of their clothing and prayed to God she couldn't feel his, because he knew it was racing and erratic.

"Congratulations" she said softly, against his neck really.

"Hmm?"

Wayne was distracted and hadn't registered what Grace had said to him.

"The baby," she explained "congratulations."

Wayne felt his heart drop into his lower abdomen at that; how did Grace even know? Oh God,this was turning into an even bigger disaster.

"Oh," he said "yeah."

"You sound thrilled" she stated, still moving with him to the music.

"Yeah" he replied, deadpan.

"Don't want to be a father?" she asked.

"It's not that." he replied "This just wasn't the plan."

"Hmm," Grace hummed "I'm sure it will all work out."

Wayne just turned his head into the crowd, not wanting her to see the sadness shining from his eyes.

"Yeah," he rasped "sure."

Both miserable, they continued to sway to the music, oblivious to each other's misery.

* * *

><p>Sitting across from Ortega in a corner booth of the restaurant they had chosen, Cho sipped his water.<p>

"So," he started "tell me something about yourself that I couldn't have read in your file."

Ortega just laughed and gave him that damn smile again.

"Hmm," he hummed "well, I'm not exactly sure what's in my file."

Cho just smiled at that.

"Well, Ortega, what are you like outside of work?" he asked.

"Well, first of all, you can call me Manny outside of work."

Cho blushed.

"I called you by your last name, didn't I?"

Manny smiled back at him, nodding.

"Well," he started "you might already know a lot of this;" he winked "I was born in Medellin, moved here when I was twelve. Well, New York, actually; I only moved to California when I started at the CBI. Hmm, I used to teach English overseas, I bet that's not in my file."

Cho chuckled.

"No," he replied "it wasn't. Where'd you teach?"

"All over really; Mali, Libya, Indonesia, Korea, Yemen and the West Bank."

"Yikes," Cho said "not the best places to be lately."

"I guess not," he replied " but I was younger and I wanted to do something dangerous. I ended up joining the army after that."

"Really?" Cho asked "That wasn't in your file."

"Odd," the other man replied "it was foreign military service, usually those things pop up right away."

"Maybe you're really a spy and just don't want to tell me." Cho joked.

"Oh no, if I were a spy I'd want to tell everyone." he laughed.

Both men continued talking until their food came and even chatted between bites.

Cho hadn't been this relaxed on a date in his life, which was odd considering his earlier panic, but he couldn't help but feel very comfortable with the man sitting across from him. He really hoped the feeling was mutual.


	14. Chapter 14

**Note: I do not own The Mentalist. Review if you'd like.**

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><p>Grace and Wayne were sitting at the bar in Clark Wu's club, neither speaking a word. The bartender looked in their direction and Wayne quickly signaled for two beers.<p>

"Here" he said, handing Grace a bottle.

"Uh.." she started, knowing she couldn't drink but not sure how to explain it "thanks."

She brought the bottle to her lips, pursing them so none of the liquid entered her mouth, and even the smell quickly made her nauseous. She tried taking several deep breaths, but the stench of liquor and sweat got to her and she quickly made her way through the crowd towards the restroom without even letting Rigsby know what she was doing.

"Grace?" he called after her.

She just pushed her way through the sweaty, writhing bodies, trying to ignore both him and the rapidly mounting urge to gag.

Finally reaching the ladies room, she pushed the door open, slamming it against the wall, and ran for the nearest open stall, barely making it before she was sick.

God, she hated this. All of this. Being violently ill in a club bathroom while on assignment was not exactly her high point. Even with the bizarre situation they found themselves in, all she could think about was how much she just wanted Wayne to hold her.

* * *

><p>Rigsby was getting worried. Grace had been gone much too long for his liking and it really wasn't like her to just take off like that.<p>

Suddenly, Lisbon's voice sounded in his ear, his mic screeching in contrast to the thumping club music.

"Where did Van Pelt go? Her mic isn't on."

"I don't know," he said under his breath "she just took off."

"Well look for her!" Lisbon ordered.

"Yes boss."

Rigsby abandoned his beer and made his way in the direction of where he had last seen Grace.

* * *

><p>Lisbon paced the length of the hotel room they had set up in across the street.<p>

"Something feels wrong" she stated.

"Probably just indigestion" Jane quipped from across the room, sitting up on the bed.

"Shut up Jane, I'm serious. This isn't like Grace. She hasn't been herself lately."

Jane just nodded, seeing how genuinely concerned Lisbon was and not wanting to wind her up any more than he had.

"She probably just went to the ladies room and didn't want us to hear her pee."

"I hope that's all it is."

Lisbon was chewing her nails, something she only did when she was truly worried, which seemed to be happening more and more lately.

"Don't worry about it Lisbon," he soothed, gently rubbing her arm "Rigsby will find her and she'll think we're being ridiculous for being so worried."

* * *

><p>Rigsby made his way to the back of the club, near the washrooms, and he still hadn't seen her, so he figured she must just be in the ladies room. And he certainly wasn't going in there to get her.<p>

He waited five more minutes, watching women come and go from the restroom, before he got really nervous, deciding that he might just have to check the washroom.

He walked up to the door and decided to knock first.

"Grace?" he called loudly over the music.

No response.

"Grace?" he called, louder.

"Wayne..."

He could hear her voice inside, it wasn't loud, but something seemed very wrong.

"Grace, I'm coming in!" he called.

He pushed through the door to the surprise of a woman in the hall, who quickly decided that fixing her makeup could wait.

The first thing he noticed was the fact that Grace seemed to be kneeling on the floor and he could see her hunched over through the open stall door.

"Grace!" he exclaimed, panic setting in when he saw her.

He rushed over to her, picking her up off the floor and holding her steady.

Her face was panicked, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Something's wrong Wayne," she whimpered "something's really wrong."

"Okay," he soothed "it's okay. Let's get you out of here. I'm going to take you to the hospital."

Grace just nodded against his shoulder, groaning in pain and clutching at her stomach.

He quickly picked her up bridal style and pushed his way out of the bathroom and towards the back door of the club.

Pushing out into the alley, he took off at a sprint to where their SUV was parked, opening her door and placing her inside as gently as he could manage before shutting her door and running to the drivers side, flinging himself into the vehicle with no regard for his own comfort.

He started the car and sped off into the street, trying to be mindful of not bumping Grace around too much and yelling at Lisbon through his mic.

"I'm taking Grace to the hospital. Something's really wrong."

* * *

><p>Lisbon's whole body stiffened as Rigsby spoke and she propelled herself into action at lightning speed.<p>

"We're right behind you. What happened?"

"I have no idea! I just found her in the bathroom like this."

Rigsby's voice was panicked and at least an octave higher than usual.

Lisbon could hear Grace groan in the background and she felt her heart go into her throat at the noise.

Something was very wrong.


	15. Chapter 15

**Note: The Mentalist is not mine. Review if you'd like.**

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><p>Rigsby pulled up to the hospital with a screech, looking over at Grace, who was now crying softly.<p>

His heart broke at the sight of her in pain and had to remind himself to get her out of the car and into the hospital instead of just pulling her into his arms.

He ran to her door and pulled her back into his arms, running into the emergency room.

"Can I help you, sir?"

A small woman in scrubs stopped him at the desk, noting his panicked look and the crying woman in his arms.

"Something's wrong, I have no idea what, but something's wrong."

"Alright, come with me."

The nurse led them into a hallway and gestured for him to put her down on a stretcher before pulling out her clipboard.

"So, what seems to be the matter?"

It was then that Grace spoke up, knowing that she wouldn't be seen quickly unless she was completely up front with the nurse.

"I'm pregnant," she rasped out "it feels like I'm losing the baby."

Suddenly the nurse was a flurry of activity, calling for a doctor and grabbing another nurse in the hallway, pulling Grace into a back room on the stretcher she was sitting on. Doctors followed into the back room with carts and machines Rigsby didn't recognize, leaving him more panicked than he had been when he got there.

* * *

><p>Lisbon and Jane rushed into the hospital about five minutes after Grace had been taken into the back. Even Jane looked mildly panicked; he had seen that something was off with Grace and let it go... And look where that had got them.<p>

"What's going on?" Lisbon asked, trying to get Rigsby's attention.

"She's pregnant." Rigsby whispered.

Lisbon's jaw dropped, leaving her standing staring at Rigsby with a shocked look.

"What?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"I had no idea."

Rigsby looked down at his shoes, willing himself not to cry out of sheer frustration.

"I did," Jane said, drawing more shocked looks "well, I had an idea. I just hadn't confirmed it. Now I have."

"Jesus," Lisbon whispered "poor Grace. First she had to kill the man she was going to marry, and now she's pregnant with his kid."

"Yeah." Rigsby whispered.

A small part of him - one that he was trying hard to suppress - wished like hell that he was the father of Grace's baby, not O'Laughlin. He supposed it was technically possible, though he knew Grace would have told him.

A nurse appeared about twenty minutes later, with a clipboard in her hands, and all three of them jumped to their feet.

"Van Pelt?" she called.

Rigsby answered immediately.

"Yes."

"Alright," she started "Ms. Van Pelt is suffering from anemia as well as a condition called hyperemesis gravidarum and there was very minimal bleeding."

"What does that mean? Is she okay?" Rigsby asked, still panicked, perhaps more so now that medical terminology was being thrown around.

"Anemia is simply when someone has an iron deficiency, it can easily be fixed with a better diet. The bleeding doesn't seem to have had any negative effects and hyperemesis gravidarum is basically just very severe morning sickness, or all day sickness, that can cause the mother to become very dehydrated. That seems to have been the case here, but we will be keeping Ms. Van Pelt overnight for observation. It's very common with twins, so you shouldn't worry too much."

At that, the nurse simply turned around and walked back where she had come from, leaving all three of them shocked, but relieved.

Jane was the first to speak.

"Twins, huh? Yikes."

"Yeah." Rigsby and Lisbon answered simultaneously.

The nurse reemerged.

"Wayne Rigsby?" she called.

Rigsby immediately stood up straight.

"Yes" he stated.

"Ms. Van Pelt asked to see you."

Rigsby made his way down the hall, trying not to walk too quickly or seem too eager, but all he wanted right now was to see Grace was alive and well. Nothing else mattered.

* * *

><p>Grace lay in the stiff hospital bed, fiddling with the paper gown she wore and trying to put her thoughts in order.<p>

She was pregnant with twins. _Twins_. Not just any twins, but Wayne Rigsby's twins. Huge, tall, constantly hungry twins. Good lord, she would be huge.

Now she just had to figure out how to explain this to Rigsby. He had a right to know, especially after tonight's panic.

She rested her hand over her stomach, trying to calm herself down a little before Rigsby got there, though with little success.

"Grace," he whispered, drawing her attention "what's going on with you?"

He came over and sat next to her on the bed, not bothering with personal space.

"I don't know" she whispered, just as softly.

He took her hand in his, stopping her fidgeting with her blanket. As soon as she felt his touch, she couldn't stop the tears that slid silently down her face.

Noticing her tears, Wayne brought his free hand up to cup her face, brushing the tears gently from her cheek.

"It's okay Grace," he whispered "you don't have to explain yourself."

"I wanted to tell you," she said "I just didn't know how."

"It's alright," he replied "it's none of my business anyways."

That made Grace cry more; she made up her mind again that she wouldn't tell him, feeling stupid for considering it in the first place.

"I'm sorry Wayne" she whispered into his shoulder, too quiet for him to hear.


	16. Chapter 16

**Note: The Mentalist doesn't belong to me. Review if you'd like. Also, this chapter contains some more explicit slash. If that kind of thing bothers you, don't read it.**

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><p>"Hey," Josh exclaimed, rushing into Grace's hospital room "what the hell happened?"<p>

Rigsby's head snapped up at the sound of the other man's voice and he suddenly found himself jealous, figuring this must be the guy in Grace's life now, maybe even the father of her child.

"I'm fine." she replied "Just dehydrated and anemic."

"Grace, you're in the hospital, that's not fine!"

Rigsby cleared his throat.

"Uh, I should go, leave you two alone."

Grace noticed the pained look on his face, the jealousy she could clearly see under the surface,and started laughing, realizing what he thought.

"Grace?" Rigsby asked, newly concerned.

Josh spoke, confused.

"Grace, what the hell is so funny?"

She managed to stop laughing, only letting out a few small giggles here and there. She looked at Josh.

"He thinks..." she laughed again, leaving Rigsby more confused than ever "He thinks we're together!"

Josh looked over at Rigsby, seeing the look on his face, and proceeded to laugh as well.

Rigsby looked between the two, suddenly noticing the strong resemblance they shared.

"He's your brother, isn't he?" Rigsby asked, embarrassed.

Grace just nodded, still giggling.

"I'm sorry Wayne," she started "I don't mean to laugh at you. It's just such a bizarre idea."

"No," he said "it's fine. Now that I see the resemblance I don't know how I could have missed it."

Even Rigsby let out a chuckle.

"Wayne, this is my brother Josh." she introduced "Josh, Wayne Rigsby; we work together."

Josh nodded and shook the other man's hand, noting that Grace had only introduced him as a co-worker. She evidently hadn't told him.

"Anyways," Rigsby started "I should go. I'm glad you're okay Grace, and congratulations."

"Thanks" she said very softly.

As soon as Rigsby was out of ear shot, Josh turned towards his sister, giving her his best glare.

"You didn't tell him" he stated.

"Just like I said I wouldn't" she retorted, harshly; any hint of laughter gone.

"He has a right to know."

"He wouldn't want to. Nothing good would come of it."

"Grace..." he started.

She interrupted.

"No, Josh. We are not having this conversation again. I'm not telling him, and that's final."

Josh just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Grace was nothing if not stubborn.

* * *

><p>Kimball Cho woke up the next morning in a bed that felt significantly more comfortable than his own. He opened his eyes and sleepily took in his surroundings; navy blue walls, a dresser in the corner made of dark wood, a window on the far wall with the curtains drawn and a tidy desk in the corner. This was definitely not his bed or his home.<p>

He rolled over, finding the bed empty, but mussed on the other side. Pulling the light grey sheet up to look under the covers, he realized he was completely naked. Naked and wrapped in covers that smelled like Ortega; no, Manny. He had agreed to call him Manny. Which sounded much more appropriate now that they'd slept together.

He could smell coffee coming from somewhere outside the room he was in and searched the floor for his boxer shorts before heading out into the hallway.

The other man's apartment was nothing like he would have imagined; it had a distinctly cozy feel, with a large brown leather couch, a makeshift table and a suitably large television in the living room and then the kitchen just off to the side, clean and well organized, with old bar stools set up in front of the breakfast bar.

His favorite thing in the kitchen by far, though, was the man standing in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs flipping pancakes.

"Hey," he said, coming up behind him "something smells good."

Manny turned and pulled him into a deep kiss, which he very happily returned, pulling the spatula from his hands and tossing it onto the counter.

The younger man pulled him flush against his body, running his hands down his back and toying with the waistband on his boxers before pulling abruptly back and turning towards his pancakes again, leaving Cho fully aroused and frustrated.

"Hey now," he whispered against his neck, wrapping his arms around Manny's torso "that wasn't fair."

"Hmm," the other man hummed "well I'm almost done with these pancakes. What do you say to going back to bed and eating them there?"

"I'm not really all that hungry" Cho replied, his hands wandering down the front of the other man's shorts and palming him, drawing a groan.

"Well, I suppose we could just go back to bed" Manny chuckled, noting the other man's excitement poking at him.

"Or," Cho started "you could keep cooking and I could deal with this."

He moved in front of Manny, bending down so his head was level with the other man's waist.

"I might burn breakfast" Manny warned, as Cho freed him from his shorts, giving him one hard pump before taking him in his mouth.

He groaned again as the man in front of him pulled his cock all the way into his mouth, deep throating him.

"Jesus!" he cried, his hips bucking, the pancakes forgotten.

Cho reached up, pulling his shorts down more to knead his balls, drawing a strangled cry from the other man.

"You've got to stop," he groaned "this is going to be over much sooner than you'd like."

Cho let him slip from his mouth and looked up at Manny.

"I'm confident you'll be ready again by the time we finish breakfast" he said, giving Manny a cheeky grin before taking all of him back into his mouth in one move.

Noting that the other man had grabbed the counter for support and started to thrust into his mouth, Cho reached back and tugged on his balls, drawing another strangled cry and feeling his cock spasm in his mouth before he came hard, jets of hot semen hitting the back of his throat.

Swallowing and sucking any residual come from him, Cho let the other man's cock slip from his mouth, pulling himself to his feet and planting a kiss on his lips.

"Sorry about that" Manny said, mildly out of breath.

"Don't be," Cho smiled "I would have stopped you if I didn't want that."

Manny just nodded, before cocking his head, indicating the burnt pancakes.

"Hmm," Cho hummed "have any cereal?"

"I thought you wanted to skip breakfast" Manny quipped with a smile.

"Figured I'd give you a minute" Cho chuckled at the other man.

"Please," he replied, reaching forward to grab Cho's still prominent arousal and chuckling "I hardly need that much time."

He pulled the other man in close to him and Cho was surprised to feel him already hardening against his leg.

"Well," Cho replied "forget about the cereal then."


	17. Chapter 17

**Note: I do not own The Mentalist. Review if you feel like it.**

* * *

><p>Rigsby sat in the dark of the bullpen, his computer screen the only light in the room, probably on the whole floor.<p>

He couldn't go home. He knew Sarah would be there, they had said they would talk tonight and he had given her the key to his place in case he was late. Stupid. So instead, he sat at his desk, alternately playing solitaire and working on paper work, trying to block out the events of the evening at all costs.

Grace was pregnant._ Pregnant. _No matter how he framed it, it was still shocking and depressing. He and Grace would both have children by the end of the year, but they would be different children, with different parents. Much as he tried not to think about it, he found himself wishing more than anything that _he _was the father of Grace's twins, that he'd never met Sarah, and most of all that he'd fought for Grace after they'd broken up, or after they'd spent the night together.

His phone rang, the shrill noise cutting through the silence of the bullpen and making him jump.

He looked at the caller ID, illuminated by the screen, and sighed. It was Sarah. Of course it was Sarah.

He pressed ignore.

* * *

><p>Cho awoke to the buzzing of his phone, the device illuminating the room before finally buzzing itself right off the table.<p>

"Ignore it" Manny grumbled beside him.

"Could be work" he replied sleepily, leaning off the bed and fumbling to retrieve his phone.

Finally grasping the device, he brought it closer to his face, the light making him squint.

_Ten missed calls. Four text messages. _

"Crap!" he exclaimed.

"Hmm?" Manny mumbled from beneath the covers.

"Something happened" Cho stated, trying to check his messages and locate his pants simultaneously, to no avail.

"Mmkay," the other man replied, sleepily "call me if it's something serious."

"Can do" Cho confirmed, shrugging on his shirt before leaning over to give the other man a peck on the lips.

Cho stumbled out into the hall and towards the door, dreading the day to come as he listened to his voice mail.

Nothing good ever came of late night phone calls. Especially in his line of work.

* * *

><p>"This isn't good." Lisbon stated, nursing her lukewarm hospital coffee and tapping her foot impatiently.<p>

"Not particularly, no." Jane responded.

"The atmosphere around the office is bad enough already, I don't particularly want to add a brooding Rigsby to that mess."

Jane just chuckled.

"Well, my dear Lisbon, there's not much we can do about that, barring hypnotism, of course, since you don't seem terribly fond of my methods."

Lisbon scoffed.

"No kidding."

"In all seriousness, Lisbon," he started "unless those babies are Rigsby's, we're in for for more of that sad puppy behavior you're so fond of."

"What would make you say that?" she asked.

"Well," Jane started " we both know he's still got it bad for her and..."

He was interrupted.

"I know that!" she exclaimed "Why would you say 'unless they're Rigsby's'? That's not possible, as far as I know."

Jane chuckled again, further annoying Lisbon.

"My dear, oblivious Lisbon," he chuckled "they slept together the night she shot O'Laughlin."

"What? You're kidding!"

"Just an educated guess" he smiled, like the cat that ate the canary.

"Great," Lisbon groaned "just what we need."

* * *

><p>His phone had rung three more times while he sat at his desk, each time it was Sarah. Each time he ignored it.<p>

Now Rigsby sat at his desk nursing the bottle of scotch he kept in his bottom drawer, well on his way to being entirely inebriated.

He knew that drinking at work, even in the middle of the night when the office was empty, was a terrible idea; but he couldn't go home and drink and he was certainly past the point where he could drive himself to the bar.

He took another sip from the bottle at leaned back in his chair, watching as the ceiling above him began to blur.

* * *

><p>"Sorry I'm late boss," Cho started as he entered the waiting room "what'd I miss?"<p>

"Oh nothing much," Jane replied "Van Pelt is pregnant and had some sort of attack."

"What?" Cho exclaimed, turning to face Lisbon for confirmation.

"Apparently it's nothing too serious," she replied "they're just giving her some supplements and then they're letting her go."

"Shouldn't they watch her overnight or something?" Cho asked.

"That's what they had said," Lisbon started "but she badgered the doctor into letting her leave."

"Jane's rubbed off on her" Cho deadpanned.

"I should hope so" Jane smiled over his magazine.

* * *

><p>"Grace, you should stay overnight."<p>

"I'm fine Josh" she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Grace..." he started, before she cut him off.

"I'm fine. I'm going home" she stated "I just need to stop off at the office first to grab my things."

Josh just sighed, seeing that she wouldn't budge, as had become her habit lately.

"Okay," he said "you want me to take you or do you have your car?"

"It's at the office. Just drop me off, I'll make my own way back."

"Alright" he said, opening the door and following her out into the hall.

* * *

><p>Walking into the CBI building, Grace felt she was finally able to breathe again. No pounding club music, no overwhelming nausea, no overprotective brother, but mostly; no Wayne.<p>

Ironic, since he worked in the building and she had many memories of him here, but she found that for the first time in a very long time she was able to forget about him, however briefly. It was nice not having that constant ache in her chest.

Stepping out of the elevator on her floor, she heard music coming from the bullpen. Odd, she really hadn't expected anyone to be here at this time of night, but evidently someone was, as she could hear the deep velvety voice of some soul singer she recognized, but couldn't quite place emanating from the room before her.

_You ever want something_  
><em>That you know you shouldn't have<em>  
><em>The more you know you shouldn't have it<em>  
><em>The more you want it<em>  
><em>And then one day<em>  
><em>You get it<em>  
><em>And it's so good to you<em>  
><em>But it's just like my girl<em>  
><em>When she's around me<em>  
><em>I just feel so good<em>  
><em>So good<em>  
><em>But right now I just feel cold<em>  
><em>So cold<em>  
><em>Right down to my bones 'cause<em>

_Ain't no sunshine when she's gone_  
><em>It's not warm when she's away<em>  
><em>Ain't no sunshine when she's gone<em>  
><em>And she always gone too long anytime she goes away<em>

__Grace made her way to the doorway of the bullpen and was surprised to see Wayne sitting at his desk, with what appeared to be a bottle of some sort of liquor, singing softly to himself.

And suddenly that ache was back.


	18. Chapter 18

**Note: The Mentalist is not mine. Review if you'd like.**

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><p>Grace stepped into the room, calling out to him.<p>

"Wayne?"

He looked up, bewildered and bleary eyed.

"Whatcha doin' here?" he slurred.

"I could ask you the same thing" she replied.

"Tha's easy," he slurred again "I'm drinkin'."

"I can see that." she stated, making her way to her desk and retrieving her bag "The question is, why are you drinking? And why at the office in the middle of the night?"

Wayne just grunted in response, drawing a look from Grace.

"Don't wanna go home" he mumbled.

"Why?" she asked again, softly.

"Sarah's there, she wants to talk about this baby business."

"You know Wayne, that's a fairly reasonable thing."

"I know," he replied "but the thought of seeing her makes me nauseous."

"Yeah," Grace started "I think that's the scotch, not Sarah."

"Maybe," he mumbled "but I still don't think I'm goin' home."

"Well, it's not like you can stay here, Wainwright's in his office one floor up."

Wayne's eyes popped open.

"Serious?" he exclaimed.

Grace just nodded, grabbing the bottle from his desk and putting it back in his drawer.

"Come on," she said "I'll drive you home."

"Can't go home" he said, adamant.

Grace was exasperated with him by now.

"Well, you can't stay here."

"I'll sleep on th' couch" he slurred.

"Oh for God's sakes!" she exclaimed, pulling him from his chair "You can sleep on my couch for all I care, you just can't stay here."

"Fine" he said, gathering his jacket and struggling to right himself, finally grabbing the desk for balance.

They made their way over to the elevator, Wayne swaying and stumbling and Grace eventually getting fed up and simply wrapping her free arm around his midsection to steady him as they walked.

Even in his compromised state, Wayne couldn't fight the way he responded to her proximity, automatically wrapping his own arm around her smaller body and pulling her into his side.

Grace sighed, knowing that she should be actively discouraging his behavior, but figuring he was probably too drunk to remember, or even realize, what he was doing.

"Wayne..." she said, very softly.

He turned to face her as they reached the elevator, surprising her by pulling her even closer to him and whispering, as though he wanted her to hear him, but was afraid of her reaction to his words.

"I love you Grace."

"I love you too" she murmured, not taking her eyes off his face for a second.

* * *

><p>Even as the words were leaving her mouth, she wished she could take them back. She hoped that he hadn't heard her, prayed he would be too drunk to remember in the morning and tried to pull herself out of his embrace.<p>

As soon as she stopped to take a breath, Wayne captured her lips with his own, wrapping his arms tighter around her and pouring every ounce of drunken feeling into the kiss.

She wanted to push him away, she really did; they were out in the open, in their work place and the taste of alcohol was heavy on his breath, but she couldn't bring herself to pull away. She hated herself for it, but it felt too good to be back in his arms again, to have him so close to her with his lips on hers and she couldn't bring herself to pull away until air became an absolute necessity.

When she finally did move away from him, regret hit her like a train. They weren't together. He was with someone else. Someone else who was pregnant with his baby, waiting in his apartment for him.

She felt sick.

He was still looking at her, obviously still drunk, but with a questioning look on his face.

"We need to get out of here" she said as the elevator doors opened, pulling him into the small box and desperately trying not to look at him.

They were both silent until they reached her car, and only once they were both inside and strapped in did Grace speak.

"That was a mistake."

"Why?" Wayne questioned, tilting his head "Love is never a mistake."

His words made her want to cry in frustration.

"In another world, Wayne" was all she managed to whisper.

He sat still and silent, looking out the window.

"I hate this" he stated, his voice strained.

Grace couldn't bring herself to reply, not trusting her voice were she to try and speak, and instead just started the car and began to make her way out of the CBI complex.

* * *

><p>Sarah sat on the couch in Rigsby's apartment, flipping through a magazine that had been on his coffee table before sighing and reaching for the phone.<p>

She typed in a familiar number and waited as it rang, a man's voice eventually coming through the receiver.

"Yes?"

"It's me. He's not home yet."

"Hmm," the voice responded "there was some sort of incident at the Purple Lotus Club this evening. Agent Rigsby was there. He is probably finishing paper work."

"Probably," she replied "but I'd much rather be spending time with you than waiting on Agent Rigsby."

"Well I'm certainly glad to hear that." the man chuckled "But don't worry, soon he will be out of the picture and we can spend all the time in the world together."

Sarah smiled and rubbed her still non-existent baby bump.

"I'm looking forward to that."

* * *

><p>Wayne and Grace arrived at her apartment in silence, just as the entire drive had passed.<p>

She opened the door and led him in, memories overflowing in his drunken mind and making him pause in the doorway.

"Come on Wayne," she murmured "one foot in front of the other."

He complied, entering the apartment and struggling with his shoes, finally tumbling over in his attempt to pull them off standing up and without undoing the laces.

Against her will, she giggled softly at the sight of him; staring malevolently at his laces, holding his right foot up with both hands and tugging again, still to no avail.

She crouched down next to him and batted his hands away from his shoe, deftly untangling his laces before pulling both shoes free from his feet, earning herself a lopsided smile from Wayne that made her chest tighten.

She stood and made her way to the hallway closet, finding clean linens and a pillow to make up the couch and grabbing a trash can as an afterthought on her way back to the living room.

She found Wayne in the exact position she had left him in, sitting on the floor staring at his feet.

"Come on Wayne," she said softly "you don't want to sleep on the floor, do you?"

He silently struggled to his feet before stumbling into the living where Grace had made up the couch and flopping down onto it.

"Thanks Grace" he slurred.

"You're welcome Wayne" she replied, brushing an errant hair out of his face, figuring there would be no way he'd remember in the morning.

"There's a trash can here if you're going to be sick, bathroom's down the hall and there's food in the fridge" she said, before walking to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water, setting them down on the table beside the couch.

She opened the bottle of pills and shook out two, handing them to him along with the water.

He swallowed them both and finished the water.

"If I could go back in time, I would fight for you" he stated, looking at her sadly.

She leaned down and kissed him very gently on the lips, cradling his face in her hands, before standing back up and giving him a sad smile.

"Goodnight Wayne."


	19. Chapter 19

**Note: The Mentalist is not mine.**

**Also, to anyone who may have been reading; I apologize for the very extended absence. I had been taking a required but very difficult math course, and math has always kind of kicked my ass, this time being no exception.**

**My updating will probably still be quite infrequent over the summer as I will be out of the country and mostly without access to a computer, though I do intend to eventually finish this story. Updates will probably be more frequent towards the end of August.**

* * *

><p>Wayne woke up with the feeling that there were bees buzzing between his ears. He very slowly cracked an eye open and regretted it instantly. It was like there was a thousand watt bulb not an inch from his face.<p>

Eyes still closed, he struggled to lift his head, his face sweaty and sticking to some sort of leather. The buzzing in his head increased as he tried to move and he instead settled for taking a shaky breath and trying to swallow, though it felt like his mouth was filled with cotton balls.

He knew that he was not in his bed, but that was all he knew. He guessed he was on some sort of couch, as his feet seemed to be hanging free off the edge of something, he didn't dare try to look.

He could hear voices coming from somewhere nearby. They were probably whispering, but it sounded to him like screaming into a microphone. Even so, he could only make out snippets of conversation through the buzzing.

"What is he doing here?"

That was a man's voice, one he couldn't say he recognized.

"He was drunk, I let him sleep it off here."

Wayne would know that voice anywhere. Grace. Why was Grace here? The buzzing intensified and he missed whatever the man's response was, only hearing Grace's reply to him.

"Don't you think I know that?"

She sounded like she was crying. Why was Grace crying?

He tried to lift his head again and tried speaking to make his presence known, but all that came out was a strangled groan.

The conversation in the other room stopped and he heard footsteps coming towards him.

"Wayne?"

The couch dipped as Grace sat down on the edge next to him.

He opened his eyes slowly, fighting the urge to snap them shut at the blinding light that greeted him.

"Wha' happn.." he mumbled, his dry mouth and buzzing head not letting him form proper words or sentences.

"Here." Grace said, handing him a glass of water off the table, which he happily emptied.

He cleared his throat and swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to throw the water right back up, and attempted to speak once more.

"What happened?"

Grace pulled at a loose thread on the couch cushion, contemplating her answer carefully.

"I found you at the CBI, drunk and singing in the bull pen. I thought you might not like to be found there in the morning."

"Oh God," Wayne groaned "I'm so sorry Grace."

"It's fine" she said quietly "you should probably get up though. You said Sarah was waiting on you."

Wayne let his head fall back heavily onto the arm of the couch, aggravating the bee's nest that now seemed to be inhabiting his skull.

"Shit."

"You can shower here if you want," Grace offered "there's towels in the hall closet and coffee and bagels in the kitchen if you want. I have to get going though, I'm meeting with Lisbon in about a half hour."

With that, Grace stood and made her way to the kitchen to grab her bag, carefully omitting the fact that her meeting with Lisbon wasn't actually for about three hours, but that she didn't trust herself to not completely break down if she had to stay in the same room with Wayne any longer. Damn her pregnancy hormones.


End file.
